


Godtier

by lowpunny



Category: Homestuck
Genre: OC, Other, fantroll, stay safe !!, suicide for one, yeah this has a lot of shit in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:18:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowpunny/pseuds/lowpunny





	Godtier

Everyone was going through their game so quickly. Yeah, there were a few hitches here and there, but it was a dream to Amifor. They all had it so easy. Except for her. No one to keep her away from her thoughts. Alone. In silence. The consorts in their constant slumber. She could never figure out how to fix it. Everything she tried was useless. Just like her.

She was never good enough. She couldn't see herself as a troll of interest, likable, friendly, decent even. She was/is a disappointment. Couldn't care for anything. Not even herself. If it weren't for being able to watch Ekimar through her viewport, she wouldn't have been able to feed herself. Fish Fuck was good for something after all. She was able to see what to do and how to do it. It wasn't any consolation to the dreadful loneliness. Amifor's inner monologue consisted of, "You're not good enough. You're a troll that only a lusus could love, and look at what happened to her. Dead all because of you. Your slip up made her die. Made you get fucked in every sense of the word." Days go by without her saying a word. No one could hear her. No one could care. What was the point? There was none. The Land of Sleep and Decay lived up to its name. All she did was wallow in her own self pity and sleep. It was so quiet. How can you resist? Her vision stayed clear of foreign colors. No glimpses of red, yellow, or green. Plain, boring grey. Monotone. Hmm, looks like some are discussing their godtiers. She always wondered what Witch of Doom meant. It couldn't hurt to find out. Go ahead and get her godtier even. It was sure to be a cool thing. Good maybe. Probably would help finish her quest and make everything less depressing. She hadn't taken a look at her quest bed, so now seemed to be as good a time as any. A long, arduous travel to the ever welcoming planet of Derse. The Dersites were as skittish and ominous as ever. Those beady eyes flitting from one object to another, waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting for a chance to take what wasn't theirs. Whether it be a single boonbuck or a life. Her sodegarami held firmly between her claws. They had grown quite a lot in her time in the game. They made good weapons. One brawl with an overly confident Dersite later, and she was feared. Killing had gotten fairly easy by now. These things couldn't feel, so what was the harm? Rid the universe of one pain in the waste chute. No one would care. Why not get rid of the biggest problem in her globes? Herself. She pondered the thought the rest of her walk to the quest coon. You did have to die _on_ the recuperacoon, so it wouldn't matter. Having reached the destination, she gave a long, emotionless glare to the circular slab inside of the normally sopor filled coon. A shrug later and she was sitting on the questcoon, aware of every inch of her body. The thighs that were too big. The stomach that spilled over her shorts waist no matter how she wore them. Stretch marks everywhere. Scars that were beginning to fade after all these sweeps. Damn, she hated her body. Every last remark made about her appearance came to mind. "Disgusting. Cheap. Overpriced. Unworthy." 

Weapon in hand, brimming with self hatred, more than enough motivation. Deep breath, eyes shut, and A short burst of light when her eyes opened. Dazed as she attempted to focus her eyes, trying to see something, anything. Slowly the world came into view, purple. Various shades of purple and... dark greens? Brows furrowed as she lifted her pan. Straightening up and smoothing her new clothes, she noticed the dress clinging tightly to her large figure. Not even a game with infinite power could fit her with adequate clothing. The dress was down to midthigh, sleeves just reaching the palms of her hands. Same color as her blood. Seemed fitting. At least  _something_  fit. She made a note to fix something to cover the unsightly blemishes on her legs. Time to face the world, or what was left of it.


End file.
